


Red Sky Before Mourning

by Sadistrix



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to enemies who sleep together, F/M, It Would Be Easier To Forget Our Traumatic Pasts If We Didn't Have A Traumatic Present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadistrix/pseuds/Sadistrix
Summary: He doesn't know what brings him to break the unspoken standoff, following the tantalizing scent of blood down into their encampment. The two of them have been trying to track him for weeks, and for weeks, the Reaper has watched.
Relationships: Ana Amari/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: Writing Rainbow Red





	Red Sky Before Mourning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlsarewolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/gifts).



He doesn't know what brings him to break the unspoken standoff, following the tantalizing scent of blood down into their encampment. The two of them have been trying to track him for weeks, and for weeks, the Reaper has watched. 

But tonight - tonight Ana Amari is nursing one wound or another and Jack has no idea how poor of a sentry he makes when Reaper can creep his way in through the ancient, crumbling bricks of their shelter itself.

"Boo."

Ana doesn't jump, but Reaper can see the flicker of fear in her eyes as she turns her head to face him. "Gabriel." Her left arm is bound up in a crude sling, dried blood crusted over at her bicep. Likely a run-in with other Talon forces if biotics haven't done the trick - and Reaper has to swallow back the flare of irritation that someone dared send another team in after them. Akande can accuse him of sentiment all he likes, Jack and Ana are _his_.

"Not anymore," he defies her, closing the distance between them. Over her shoulder, Overwatch’s recall beacons light up a map of the globe interspersed with their guesses at Talon’s movement. None of it is new information, but Reaper can’t bring himself to be disappointed. Not with Ana at his fingertips, as good as defenseless for all any of her meager arsenal could do against him.

There's a sidearm thrust beneath the lip of his mask before Reaper even sees her draw. So she hasn't let everything slip in her old age - so much the better. "Whatever it is you're here for," Ana cautions, "think again."

"Pull the trigger," Reaper challenges rather than swat the pistol away. He's almost looking forward to the pain, the momentary calm that comes as close to peace as he can get these days.

Ana's hand doesn't waver. This close it’s almost a distraction: the heat of her body, the hardness in her eyes, the understated strength she carries herself with still. He strokes a hand down her injured arm and is surprised when Ana doesn’t pull away. He regards the stained fabric beneath his glove and tries to decide if she was grazed by a bullet or took the wound from a blade. He hasn’t bled in what feels like ages.

The muzzle of her pistol lifts, bringing his mask with it, and though Reaper could stop her if he was so inclined, he lets it happen. He could have killed her a dozen times over by now - long before she ever saw him coming - but he hasn’t done that either. Not tonight. The air between them is charged with the seeming truce, under-negotiated as it is. 

The construct falls to their feet with an unearthly clatter, echoing off the stone of the abandoned necropolis. “It really is you,” Ana says. Her scrutiny yields far less revulsion than she’d shown him only weeks before.

“In the flesh,” Reaper confirms. “More or less.”

“I don’t suppose you’re planning to explain yourself,” Ana muses, dryly. Her sidearm lingers against Reaper’s jaw, almost forming the suggestion of a caress.

He wants, badly, to return it: to pull Ana into his arms and bury his face in the softness of her skin. A comfort he could stand to partake in one last time. “Have I ever?”

“There was a time I thought that meant I didn’t have to worry.” The corner of her eyes crinkle up in amusement despite the damning admission, honey-gold eyes taking on a warmth Reaper hadn’t expected to be turned his way again.

He’s expecting her to push the subject, but it never comes. Ana leans forward as though there’s a secret she’s planning to let him in on, and Reaper bends his head only to be met with Ana’s lips on his, her sidearm against the back of his neck.

It’s every bit as familiar as it was over a decade ago. “There was a time _that_ meant we thought we were about to die.”

“Tell me you’ve ruled it out,” Ana challenges him, surprisingly free of heat for the acknowledgement that Reaper will be the death of her sooner or later if all goes according to plan. She’ll fight - wouldn’t be Ana Amari if she didn’t - but Reaper is loathe to imagine her blood staining any claws but his. “Until then...” She presses her mouth over his again and lets the kiss speak for itself, “I could stand to do this in a bed for once, if you’re so inclined.”


End file.
